


Broken

by sainnis



Series: Fellowes Mews [10]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sainnis/pseuds/sainnis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day in the life of Dr. Alphonse Elric.  Written as part of the Fellowes Mews verse, though it could be read alone. Featuring Dr!Al, with offscreen cameos of Prime Minister!Roy and Bodyguard!Ed. </p>
<p>This is the tenth story in the Fellowes Mews series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nyagosstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyagosstar/gifts).



> This was written as a gift for nyagosstar, although spending this much time with Al on paper was a gift for me, too.

The clock in the on-call room read half past eight; it had stopped again. If he hadn’t been in the middle of a double shift, if he hadn’t been so exhausted, if he hadn’t just pronounced a thirteen-year-old boy dead, he might have used a bit of alchemy to fix it. Instead, he walked to the sink and rinsed out a chipped mug, filling it to the brim with coffee darker than an oil slick. It wasn’t hot—it was barely tepid—but he drank it fast. He sank into one of the battered chairs scattered about the room, its cushions leaking yellowed stuffing onto the floor.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and saw the boy’s face again, his hair as blonde as Ed’s. It was a mercy he hadn’t regained consciousness. The kid’s wiry wrists had poked out of his torn jacket, his skin pale underneath the blood and hospital lights. He had that desperate, underfed look to him that stopped Al from asking if there was anyone they should call. The poor boy had worked for a delivery company—illegally, Al was certain—and one of the drivers had backed up without knowing he was behind the truck. They brought him in, barely breathing, covered in blood, asking, “Can you fix him?” 

The vase he’d knocked to the floor at Riza’s apartment, the page he’d accidentally torn from his library book, the bent frame of his bicycle. These were things he could mend. Metal, glass, paper, wood, earth. He could manipulate these things; take them apart, put them back together. Thirteen-year-old boys crushed from the waist down were not within his power to fix. 

Jumping to his feet just in time, Al leaned over the sink, losing his coffee. He gripped the counter and held himself steady until his stomach finally quieted. Turning on the tap again, he cupped water in his palm and rinsed his mouth, grateful the on-call room was empty. He’d never been one of the med students to get sick in anatomy or during surgeries; his previous life in armor had given him ample opportunity to get over any aversion he might have had towards blood. As desensitized as that made him sound, he knew it hadn’t been the injuries, horrible as they were. He looked like Ed. 

Al checked his watch; it was nearly midnight. He walked across the room to the couch against the wall. It smelled vaguely of cat urine, and was missing two of its cushions, but he sank into it with only kind thoughts towards whichever resident had donated it years ago. He picked up the phone from the table and dialed. Ed didn’t usually go to bed early these days.

A breathless hello came over the line, and Al winced. “Ed?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not…” he stopped, letting his head fall back against the wall. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

His brother laughed. “Nothing as exciting as that. I just ran up the stairs. You okay?”

Al didn’t answer. 

“Al?”

“I’m sorry…” he sighed, rubbing his fingertips over his eyelids. 

“It’s been a lousy night.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“Is there anything I can do?” It was such a typically Ed question that Al felt his throat tighten. 

“No, I just…” He cleared his throat. “I just needed to know you were all right.” 

He heard Ed sigh a little, but there was nothing impatient or critical in the sound. “Do you want me to come over? Bring you some real coffee? I could get donuts. There’s that place on Fifth that stays open really—“

“No, no. It’s really nice of you to offer, but no thanks. I wouldn’t be able to eat anything right now anyway.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll be okay. Really. I just kind of got blindsided tonight. I guess it helps to know there’s a real world out there somewhere and you’re in it, and you’re okay, and…” He stopped before his voice broke. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t lost patients before. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t lost kids before. 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Ed’s voice was quiet, almost like the tone he’d used when tucking Al into bed after their mom died. 

“It’s my job to save him, and all I could do was watch him die.” Al shuddered. “He was only thirteen.”

“It’s your job to do no harm. It’s your job to undo as much damage as you can as often as you can. You can’t hold yourself responsible for the terrible things that happen to other people. You’re only responsible for your own actions once these people come into your care.” 

“He looked like you, Ed.” Al kept his tone flat, controlled. “And no one knows he’s gone. There’s no family, nothing. It’s like he never existed. It’s just wrong. He should have had a brother, or a sister, someone to look after him.”

“He had you.”

Al scoffed. “I couldn’t do anything. There wasn’t enough of him left to save.”

“He died where he was warm and safe and under the care of the most brilliant, kind person I know. If you couldn’t help, there was no help for him.”

Ed used words the way he transmuted his automail. Sometimes they were weapons sharp enough to pierce armor, and other times, they were gentle enough to cup blown glass.

“I think you missed your calling,” Al said, blinking until his vision cleared. “Speechwriter. Roy’s have been a little dull lately.”

“You’re just quoting the newspaper now, and everyone knows they have no taste.”

“It’s sweet that you think I have enough free time to read the paper.”

“You sound really tired.”

“I am.” Al exhaled, wishing he could lay down on the couch and sleep for days, regardless of the fact he’d smell like a cat peed on him. 

“Can you sleep tomorrow when your shift is done?”

“Yeah.” Al closed his eyes. “I’m supposed to see Riza tomorrow night.”

Ed’s grin was apparent through the phone line. “That doesn’t sound very relaxing.”

“Shut up.”

“Although it could be, in a sense—“

“Ed.”

His brother sighed. “You’re a gentleman, blah blah blah. I’m just saying to have a good time for once. You deserve it.”

“I always have a good time with her.”

“How many dates has it been now?”

“Seven. Well, eight if you count coffee, which was kind of like our first date, but it wasn’t really planned, so maybe that doesn’t count.”

“This is getting serious.”

Al covered his face with his free hand. “It all depends on your definition of serious.”

“Wait a minute.” Ed’s curiosity was definitely piqued, as he started talking faster. “Are you in love with her?” 

“I really don’t think that I’m quite—“

“Holy shit, Al!”

“Would you please not swear so much on the hospital phone?”

“Are they listening in on our calls?”

Al pursed his lips. “No.”

“Then who the fuck cares? You’re in love with Riza Hawkeye.”

“It’s not like that! Possibly. I could be. I don’t know. I really don’t think that I should have this conversation with you when I’m this tired. Or maybe at all.”

“You should tell her.” Ed sounded very self-satisfied.

“Are you crazy? It’s kind of early to be saying things like that. Also, she has a lot of weapons, and I don’t like startling armed people.”

“You think she doesn’t already know how you feel? Please.” Ed blew the air out of his mouth. “Honestly. She’s not an idiot.”

“No offense, brother, but you’re not exactly an expert when it comes to these things.”

Ed sniffed. “I can think of one person who would beg to differ with you.”

“Just…just let me figure this out my own way, okay?”

There was silence, and then the sound of a laugh breaking through Ed’s attempts to hold it back. “Oh, Al.”

“I should go. I’m sorry to call so late.”

“There’s no such thing.”

“Thank you.”

“Please. This is what big brothers gear up for.”

Al rose to his feet, feeling his spine pop in two places. “Get some rest. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Ed said goodbye, and Al hung up the phone. He walked back to the counter, washed out the mug, and filled it a second time with coffee. It was still tepid, and still tasted like sludge, but this time it stayed down.

*****

The evening passed in an uneven parade of simple cases. Most residents would have declared it boring, perhaps mind-numbingly so, but it was exactly the sort of night that Al needed. A few fevers, a sprained ankle, a few cuts to stitch. These were the small things, the injuries that were nothing more than an inconvenience. It was the sort of night when he could talk to his patients, make a few laugh, or at least leave less cranky then they were when they arrived.   
He had finally been able to snatch an hour of sleep in the on-call room, although he’d chosen the mysteriously stained mattress over the couch. It wasn’t much, but a cupful of water was an oasis to a man stranded in the desert. The night shift nurses had a soft spot for him, and they saved him a cherry pastry when the street vendor stopped in.

After licking the icing from his fingers, he checked his watch. Only four hours to go. He could see sunlight peeking in from beneath the ambulance bay doors. It was morning, and this day-into-night-into-day was nearly over. No new patients had arrived recently, and he found a corner behind the nurse’s station where he could start working on some of his charts. They never warned you about the paperwork when you started med school, he thought with a frown. I might as well have gone into the military.

He flipped through his folders, his eyes resting for a moment on the boy’s name. Shuffling that one to the bottom, he began working on the topmost case, which had been an overtired chef with a recently sharpened knife. The sounds of the hospital—the click of heels on tiled floors, murmurs of conversation, the polite ding of the elevator—provided a strangely soothing backdrop as he worked, and the relative quiet only made the ring of the phone that more jarring.

It was odd, because Al had never noticed the phone on the wall beside him before. Looking at it more closely, he noticed it didn’t have a rotary dial at all; it was only for incoming calls. It rang again, and he lifted his hand, wondering if he should pick it up. 

The head nurse, Mrs. Sebastian, who was generally the sort of woman who called Al ‘sugar,’ snatched the receiver before Al could lay a finger on it, her expression imperious. 

“Center one,” she said, “Go ahead.”

Al gathered his folders to his chest, sliding uneasily out of his chair, but the nurse stopped him, the phone held between her ear and her shoulder. She gestured wildly for a pen, and he complied, watching as she scrawled numbers and notes. 

“Understood.” She hung up and stared at Al for a moment before speaking. “We are the closest hospital to Headquarters in Central. If there’s an emergency, they let us know what’s coming.”

“What happened?”

Her voice was pitched so low he could barely hear her. “Bomb. Contained. A few are already dead. Ambulances are on their way.”

He heard the siren wails begin before she even finished, making his stomach clench. Oh God, Riza. “Which part of Headquarters?” 

“I don’t know.”

“How many are hurt?”

“I don’t know, Elric! Move!” She gave him a little push as she brushed by, already barking out orders to all nearby staff.

Al stashed his charts in the nearest drawer of the nurse’s station, his senses reeling. A heightened, panicked energy had already suffused the area, even though most of the staff hadn’t yet heard the details. Nurses were restocking carts and supplies; orderlies pushed chairs against the walls to allow more room for the gurneys. 

An unfamiliar code was announced over the hospital’s p.a. system, and more doctors emerged onto the main floor in a matter of moments. Al looked around, surprised to see so many of the highest members of staff. Usually they were all wrapped up in their own cases on the other floors, leaving the daily emergencies to the interns and residents. Their presence was an ill omen, like the appearance of a raven in old myths, meaning something terrible was about to begin. 

He’d only seen the ocean one time, a few months after he’d gotten his body back. Ed knew it was something he’d always wanted to do, and once he was strong enough, they took the train to the coast. It had been a glorious day, the sort that felt like summer even though it was still spring, and the feel of the warm breeze over his skin almost made him wonder if he’d ever truly been alive until this day. They wandered through the seaside town, telling jokes and buying junk food. Ed cursed when his cotton candy got stuck in his automail fingers, and Al ate four hot dogs in a row, deciding not to chance a fifth even though he thought about it. They walked across the beach and stood staring at the sea, watching the waves lap against the shoreline. He could taste salt on his tongue, and he listened to the crash of the breakers, rhythmic as breathing. Wave after wave after wave, the tide slowly came in, rising around his feet. He remembered thinking then that he’d never seen something so inexorable, so relentless as the sea.

The ambulances arrived, first two, then four, and then he stopped counting. They came in waves, like the sea, and Al wondered for a brief moment as he helped transfer a wounded man from his gurney to a bed how long this tide would last. It was a lumbering kind of ordered chaos as patients were cataloged according to injury, ensuring that the victims most in danger would receive care first. Al hated to pass any of them by; he didn’t want to make anyone wait, even if their injuries were superficial. The waiting area filled in a matter of minutes, a wash of blue uniforms splashed here and there in red. 

He returned to the ambulance bay to help triage the next set of arrivals, and he blanched when he saw a familiar face.

“Ross! Are you okay?”

She looked up in surprise, blinking blood out of her eyes from a wound on her forehead. “Al! God, you’ve grown up.”

He pressed fresh gauze over her wound, pushing her gurney into the hospital. “I just heard there was a bomb. What can you tell me?”

“It was the east wing of command. Knocked part of the building down. I heard they caught the culprit. Some wack job who hates the military.” She winced as Al started examining her. “Brosch is okay, thank God. He’s probably screaming bloody murder in the waiting room.”

“Did you see anyone else? Hawkeye? Armstrong?” God, of all the times to have to be careful what he said about Riza. He didn’t know exactly who knew they were seeing each other, and she tended to keep her private life exactly that.

She shook her head, although the action was made difficult by the fact Al was stitching her up. “It was hard to see anyone coming or going. Sorry.”

He finished his work as quickly and efficiently as possible, placing a bandage over the stitched wound. “If I see Brosch, I’ll let him know you’re okay. Just rest.”

Ross thanked him, and Al left, closing a curtain around her. He walked back towards the waiting area, and scanned the teeming crowd. It was more military personnel than he’d seen in years, and the sight of so many uniforms almost made him a little sick. He recognized a few faces, but the one he was hoping to see wasn’t there. A resident called his name, asking for help, and Al set to work trying to save a young soldier with massive leg trauma. 

The hours passed like exams in med school, making him recall stupid small details mentioned once by his professors. Everyone was in a hurry, and Al had to double check every bag of blood, every vial of medicine put into his hands. More than once he stopped himself just moments before injecting the incorrect dosage. He was beyond exhausted, and so was half the staff, but the patients kept coming, and the only way out was to push through. If Riza was in here and someone else was working on her, he’d want that doctor to be doubly careful as well. 

The only saving grace in the entire disaster was the fact a decent portion of the injuries weren’t life-threatening, and once those most in need of surgery were either in operating rooms or waiting to go in, he and the interns and residents who had been on for double shifts were sent back down to emergency. A few of the other young doctors around him griped and cursed about the surgeries they were missing, but Al was beyond grateful he wouldn’t have to spend the rest of the day assisting. He was already unsteady on his feet, and he knew an hours-long surgery would do him in. 

More of the story filtered in as the day progressed, although it was difficult to separate fact from fiction. Some said there were multiple bombers; some said one. One man said the bomb was placed in Roy Mustang’s old office and was meant to be a warning to him if he became Prime Minister; another said the bomb wasn’t near anything but a bathroom. He did finally track down Brosch, who upon hearing the news that Ross would be fine, grabbed Al in a spine-crunching hug, promising that he would name their firstborn after him. He, however, had not seen Riza either. 

It was almost frightening how well he could do smaller procedures after being awake for nearly thirty-six hours. He’d already done enough stitches to outfit a regimen in new uniforms, set a handful of dislocated shoulders, put in dozens and dozens of IVs, and had intubated more people in one day than he had in his entire career thus far. He wasn’t entirely sure when these sort of tasks had become normal in his mind, when the muscle memory had set in. As he checked back at the nurses’ station for what could have only been the hundredth time, Mrs. Sebastian handed him a cup of coffee instead of another chart. “Take five minutes, sugar. Things are slowing down.”

He gave her a nod, accepting the cup with quiet thanks. It tasted like crap, but he drank it anyway. He stepped away from the station, walking back towards the pay phones. Shoving his hand in the pocket of his bloodstained scrubs, he pulled out a worn business card, brushing his thumb over the raised letters of her name. He turned it over, scanning the number she’d written on the back for emergencies. Fishing in his other pocket for change, he plunked a few coins into the phone and quickly dialed the number. 

The phone rang, and was answered several rings later by an unfamiliar voice. 

“Central Command.”

“Riza Hawkeye, please.”

“The Brigadier General isn’t here, sir.”

“Can you tell me where she is?” 

“Sir, we got our phone lines back five minutes ago. I don’t know where anyone is.”

“This is Dr. Elric from Central Hospital—“

“Elric? The Alchemist of the People?”

“Yes. No. He’s my brother. I’m Alphonse.”

“You’re not Fullmetal?”

“No! I’m not!” Al knew the few threads of composure holding him together were about to break, and he tried to stop himself from shouting. “This is Dr. Elric and I need to find Riza Hawkeye. She’s not on any of the patient logs and I’ve asked everyone who might know her if they’ve seen her, and nobody has. I’ve even been down to the morgue and I can’t freaking find her, and I need to know if she’s okay!”

The secretary seemed taken aback. “I’m sorry, sir, but everything’s been moved off site. I don’t know what to tell you.”

Al leaned forward, resting his head against the cool metal of the phone box. “I’m sorry. Thank you.” He hung up, his chest aching and throat burning. 

“Dr. Elric?”

Al sighed, summoning the strength to lift his head. “What?” He turned around, shoving the crumpled business card into his pocket.

“Alphonse.” She stood about ten feet away from him, her left arm cradled against her chest and dried blood smeared across her throat. Bits of ash clung to her hair and skin, giving each an otherworldly, silver appearance, and a bruise was already rising on her temple. He closed the distance between them in two steps, gathering her into his arms.

He murmured her name against her hair, and he breathed her in. She smelled like smoke and metal, like a pistol right after it’s fired. “You’re here. You’re alive. I didn’t…” He stopped speaking, pressing a kiss against her cheek. “Where were you?”

“I was one of the last to leave. I had to make sure my people were safe.” Her right arm gripped him fiercely, pressing tight around his waist. He felt her chin rest on his shoulder, sensed the warmth of her body against his own. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

He pulled her a little closer, but she swore suddenly, pulling away. “Sorry. My arm hurts a little.”

Glancing down at her, he saw a jagged piece of glass sticking out from her forearm, blood leaking through her uniform. “A little?” Al said, wincing just at the sight of it. “Come on. We’ll get that taken care of.”

She was limping slightly, but outright refused his offer of a wheelchair. Instead, he took her by her good arm and led her to a curtained area towards the back of the emergency room, relieved to see many of the beds that had been filled before were empty now. She sat down on the thin mattress, and he brushed his hand over her forehead. “Do you want me to get one of the nurses to examine you?”

Riza looked at him strangely, and then she started to laugh harder than he’d heard before, which made her snort a little. “Someone just tried to blow up my building. They put a bomb in there and tried to blow me up along with everyone I work with, and you’re worried that I might be concerned about my modesty?”

Al froze. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Al.” She waited to speak again until he looked her in the eye. “It’s okay. I trust you.”

He nodded, trying not to look like a fool and quite sure he was failing miserably. “Does anything hurt?”

“Not really. Just my arm. Where the glass is sticking out of it.” 

“Right. Okay. We’ll fix that. Really soon. Just let me make sure you’re not bleeding internally or anything.”

God, was Ed going to laugh at the irony of it all. What were the odds the first time he’d get to unbutton her blouse would be in the emergency room? 

You are a professional. You have seen lots of other women before. It’s part of your job. It’s not weird or sexual or kinky. It’s just a person’s body on a table. 

But this was Riza. Gorgeous, brilliant, amazing, surprisingly funny Riza. Riza, who could hit the bulls-eye from a quarter mile away. Riza, whose shirt was now open before him to reveal the blue lace-trimmed bra beneath her uniform. 

“They’re just breasts, Al. I’m sure you’ve seen some before.”

Al glanced up. “I wasn’t staring at them.” Oh God, they’re going to take away my license.

A faint smile came over her lips. “I was sort of thinking you might get to see this bra tonight, anyway.”

He couldn’t think of anything to say in response that was in the vicinity of proper, so he said nothing, and instead slipped his stethoscope up the back of her shirt to listen to her breathing. 

When he finished, he helped her lay down on the bed, careful not to jostle her injured arm. She stared up at him, a line appearing between her eyebrows as he started examining her chest. “I’m not used to seeing you look so serious.”

“I’m not used to seeing you bleed.” He listened to her heart, which, unlike his, didn’t seem to have any problem keeping a regular rhythm.

He put aside his stethoscope and moved her shirt aside to press gently on her abdomen. “Nothing hurts?”

She shook her head. “There were two explosions. I was able to get under a desk after the first, but my arms and legs didn’t quite fit. That’s how the glass hit me.”

“I’m so sorry.” He started buttoning up her shirt. “You must be cold.”

Closing her eyes for a moment, she said, “I was really looking forward to today. And tonight. I can’t believe this happened. I believe it, in the sense this is Amestris and God forbid if we last a few months without someone losing their shit and wanting to take out whoever is pissing them off, but I really thought maybe we were getting this kind of thing out of our system.”

He turned to the cabinet beside her bed, pulling out one of the colorless thermal blankets. Draping it over her body, he touched her forehead again, smoothing his thumb over her skin. “I’m sure it’s wishful thinking on my part, at least that’s what Ed always says, but I like to think that maybe this is the last gasp. I want to believe that if our country has a strong leader, one that has enough intelligence and compassion to do the job right, then maybe we really will take a step forward.” He sighed. “I hope we get there. I hope we see it. Because we fought for it, and I think we deserve it.”

She opened her eyes, smiling faintly. “You’ve always been an optimist.”

Pulling open another drawer, he found a vial of novocaine and a syringe. “I’m going to give you a shot to numb your arm.”

“You have much better manners than the military doctors. They don’t even warn you.” She didn’t flinch when he injected the painkiller. 

“It’ll take a few minutes to work.” He walked to the sink, filling a basin with warm water, and returned with fresh towels. “Let me clean you up at little. You got nicked in a few places.”

He dipped the corner off a towel in the water, gently wiping at the thin cut over her collarbone. Dried blood came away with the water, staining the towel pink. “You could have died today,” he said softly.

Exhaling, she looked up at him. “It’s not that different than a lot of other days in my life, I suppose. Besides, I could say the same for you.”

“I think probably you’ve had more than me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Because I’m older?”

“No.” He looked away from her, concentrating on the task at hand. “I was kind of mostly invincible there for about a quarter of my life.”

She winced softly when he cleaned a slightly deeper cut on her right arm. “Do you ever miss it?”

Al stopped spreading ointment on the wound. “What?”

“Miss it. You know. The armor.”

“It’s kind of…well, it’s sort of hard to explain.” He took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t know why I asked you that.”

“It’s okay.” He met her gaze, wiping the cloth over her face. “I want you to be able to ask me these things. I’m not always good at answering, but I’m glad that you ask.” He paused for a moment. “It’s tough for me to talk about it with Ed sometimes because I feel badly that I’m okay, my body is fine, and he’s still…not. And I know he doesn’t want me to feel guilty about it, but sometimes I do. 

“The only thing I miss is being able to keep going when everyone else is starting to fade. I didn’t need sleep. Didn’t need to eat. Bullets, knives, nothing could stop me. I was so much stronger, physically, at least. I miss being able to protect the people I loved.” He reached for her hand, a little surprised he’d told her so much. “I just have to do it in a different way now.”

She pressed his hand to her lips, kissing his knuckles. “You do it well.”

“I’m trying.” He pulled his hand away gently after a moment. “Okay. Let’s get you fixed up.”

***** 

He kept both hands on the wheel, braking a little harder than was probably necessary. It was sort of an unwritten rule that after a certain number of hours at work that you weren’t supposed to drive yourself home, but it wasn’t as if there was anyone he could ask, and Riza wasn’t in any shape to drive either. He could have called Ed, but he had a feeling that if even half of the things he’d heard regarding the bombing were true, Roy was going to need Ed more than Al did. 

“This is a nice car,” Riza said, yawning beside him in the front seat. She had her arm in a sling, and bandages taped over her wounds. “It’s old, but it’s nice.”

“I bought it from one of my patients during my first year as an intern. I don’t think he drove it more than fifty miles in all the years he owned it.” Al smiled as he thought about Mr. Emery. “He said he thought the car and I would get along.”

“It suits you.” She looked over at him, blinking sleepily. “I thought you said that medicine wasn’t going to make me tired.”

“You need to get some rest.” Al drove out of Central proper, heading towards the outskirts of town where Riza’s house was. 

“So you lied?”

“It’s supposed to help you relax.” He shrugged. “I probably should have mentioned there are people who experience some tiredness as well.”

She yawned again, and glared at him, although the expression wasn’t nearly as fierce as he supposed she meant it to be. “There’s a lot I should be doing, and you’re driving me home to sleep.”

“You’re hurt and you need some peace and quiet. I checked with General Armstrong and he told me to take you home.”

She closed her eyes. “It’s a conspiracy. I can’t believe you talked to my boss.”

“If it helps, he said he hopes you feel better.”

Riza muttered something under her breath, and Al didn’t ask her to repeat it.

They drove down a little street lined with willow trees, and he eased his car into the driveway beside her house. It was small, though it had a porch around the front half and a large fenced-in yard around the back. He turned off the car, and came around to the passenger side to open her door. 

She tried to climb out on her own, but he caught her before she fell across the driveway. “Is dizziness a side effect too?” she grumbled, letting him help her up.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He came alongside her, helping her up the front walk and through the front door. Black Hayate was lying across the floor in the living room, and he thumped his tail against the floorboards in greeting.

“Lazy old thing doesn’t even get up anymore when I come home.” 

Al called his greeting to the dog, who made a contented snort in reply. “Come on. Let’s get you upstairs.”

After clumsily kicking off her shoes, she let him walk her up the stairs, leaning heavily on his shoulder. He’d actually never been upstairs in her house, and he looked at her for a moment before she said, “End of the hall. Last door.”

Her bedroom was sparsely furnished, but a woven rug on the floor and linen curtains gave the room a warm feeling. He finally got her over to the bed, and she sank down onto the mattress with a sigh. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to be home.”

He gave her a smile, brushing her hair from her face. “Can I get you anything?”

“Nightgown. Please. It’s over there.”

He retrieved it, placing it next to her on the bed. 

She frowned, trying to extricate her arm from the sling. “This is going to be an enormous pain in the ass.”

“You won’t need it for long. It’ll heal faster if you let it rest for a few days.”

After fumbling with her buttons and swearing, she looked up at him. “Can you please take this damn thing off?”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure.” Al undid her blouse, careful as he pulled the sleeve around her bandaged arm, and then slipped her nightgown over her head. “Um. Do you want your bra off?”

“Please.”

He reached around her back, feeling for the unbelievably tiny hooks, trying not to sigh with relief when he finally got them undone. 

“Not bad, Elric. Very impressive.”

Al took a step back as she wriggled out of her skirt and got under the blankets. “You were amazing today.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. The floor below him looked so comfortable. “Yesterday wasn’t so good. Today was a little better, in spite of everything.”

“Thank you for taking care of all my people. And me.”

“There really isn’t anything I’d rather do,” he said quietly, looking down at her. God, she was beautiful. Even though he was strung out and worn through and so completely, utterly spent, he couldn’t stop himself from staring at her. 

Instead he forced himself to look away, and he prepared to stand up. He did not want to stand up. “I should let you get some sleep.”

“Al, what time is it?”

“Um,” he glanced down at his watch. “It’s about 4 pm.”

“How long have you been awake now?”

“Well,” he said, trying to get the numbers to work themselves out right in his head. “It’s been about two days, I think. A little more.”

“Take off your shoes.”

“Why?”

“Just take off your shoes and please just get in bed.”

He laughed a little, the sort of tired laugh that almost sounds like a sniff. “You want me to sleep over?”

“Yes.” She reached out, tugging on his wrist. “Get under the covers before I fall asleep. Or before you fall asleep and hit your head on the floor and I have to drive you back to the hospital because you cracked your skull open.”

“You shouldn’t drive on that medication.”

“Then do what I tell you to and I won’t have to.”

She was Riza Hawkeye, after all, and when she gave an order, it was difficult to ignore, even if you weren’t her subordinate. He tugged off his shoes, walking around to the opposite side of the bed. Thank goodness he’d had an extra set of scrubs to change into before leaving the hospital; he’d probably have to throw away the ones he’d worn today. Detergents could only do so much.

Her bed was huge, and it was perhaps the most comfortable place he’d ever been in his entire life. 

“Get closer,” she said, tugging with her good hand on his shoulder. 

He moved alongside her, immediately aware of the warmth of her body. “I’m really glad we’re getting to see each other tonight after all,” he said softly, reaching out his hand to stroke her cheek.

She kissed him instead of answering, and he smiled against her mouth, feeling her fingers curling against the nape of his neck. Everything about her was so incredibly warm—her skin, her mouth—and he found himself inwardly cursing the criminals who tried to kill her today just for the mere fact that he couldn’t touch more of her for fear of hurting her. 

Eventually she broke contact, resting her forehead against his chest. “Maybe next time we should skip dinner and you should just come over instead. You know, on a day when no one’s tried to blow me up.”

“That sounds like a plan.” 

She nodded. “Good.” She settled herself more comfortably beside him, tucked against his side. 

“Sleep well,” he whispered, smoothing a hand one more time over her hair. 

“You too.”

He smiled a little to himself in the dark. “That was a nice bra,” he said. “I meant to tell you earlier, but they kind of frown on making comments like that at work.”

“Such prudes.” She laughed. “Goodnight, Alphonse.”

“Goodnight, Riza.”


End file.
